


Drabbles Abound

by IceMakeSnake



Category: DC Comics, Free!, Homestuck, Multi-Fandom, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Drabbles, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceMakeSnake/pseuds/IceMakeSnake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the drabbles I've written or been asked to write. Some smutty, some fluffy, some angsty. It's a melting pot.<br/>Multi-fandom: I'll add them to the tags as drabbles are posted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Purr Your Heart Out (Homestuck)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat has a very rough day at work and the best way to fix it, John decides, is cuddling and maybe some kisses.  
> (AU – Trolls are an Earth species. Non-game)
> 
> For my douchebag darling [Lyssa](http://lyssafreyguy.tumblr.com), who loves JohnKat and has a purring kink. A LOT more fluffy than my M rated intentions, but my writing has a mind of its own sometimes.

**Title:** Purr Your Heart Out  
**Fandom:** Homestuck  
**Pairing:** John/Karkat – Redrom (Matesprites)  
**Word Count:** 990  
**Rating:** T  
**Warnings:** much fluffy cuddling, AU setting, mention of child abuse  
**Prompt:** "JohnKat, involving a purring kink" 

\--

Karkat is grumbling to himself when he comes in the front door of your quaint little flat, and normally you probably would not give this much notice – Karkat likes to grumble and he’s just gotten off an extended shift at the clinic. But it’s the slightly choked tone that has you glancing up in concern, and then you see he’s on the verge of tears.  
  
“Baby,” the word slips off your tongue instinctively, and he starts to sniffle. “No no no,” you declare in a concerned tone, almost running as you cross the room and sweep him into your arms. “Tell me all about it.”  
  
He just starts to sob, leaning heavily into your chest, the rounded nubs of his horns bumping your throat. Making soft, crooning noises, you lead him slowly and carefully to the couch where you situate him on your lap. He curls into you, still sobbing, and you just continue shushing him as you run your fingers up and down his spine. This seems to help somewhat – it usually does – and so you move your hands up, fingers carding through his hair gently.  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?” You finally ask him when his sobs have dwindled to small hiccups and sniffles.  
  
“Maybe,” he answers softly, fingers twisting anxiously in the fabric of your shirt collar, and you know he means ‘yes’. He heaves a sigh that dissolves into another hiccup and clears his throat. “One of my patients left, so I was paired with another to take his place. We’ll call her V.”  
  
You understand he’s not allowed to tell you much. Karkat works in a clinic that counsels abused children while they’re waiting to be placed with new families. To keep the kids safe there’s a very strict policy, set by the clinic’s owner Dr. Scratch, and it means even sharing a name could get your lover fired. You nod in understanding, bumping his forehead with yours as a silent prompt to continue.  
  
Karkat tries to center himself. “Her father died before she was born, and her mother died about a year ago. She went to live with her Aunt, but –” he chokes a bit, thinking about what he’s about to say. “John, her aunt hates her; resents her. V is so full of potential, I can see it, but her Aunt was just so _jealous_. She broke V’s arm really badly pushing her down the stairs. It’s so bad they might not be able to fix it, and she stabbed her eight times…. She almost _killed_ her!”  
  
He starts to cry again and all you can do is hold him, your heart hammering your throat as you desperately wish there was anything you could say to help. You know this job can wreck him at times. You both knew it going in. But you also know Karkat wouldn’t be happy doing anything else. He might seem gruff or even scary at times, but all he wants to do is _help people_.  
  
You hum softly, tugging his hair gently as you nuzzle the side of his face, and press your lips to his temple, his cheek, his throat. “It’s going to be okay, Karkat. V is alive, and even if they can’t fix her arm, she has you to help her through it all.”  
  
He starts quieting again and even nuzzles back into you. “You can be really smart sometimes for a human, John.”  
  
You smile. “I know.”  
  
Releasing his messy black locks, you rub your fingers around the base of his horns and he tenses up. His back straightens and archs a bit and he’s biting his lip to stifle the sound.  
  
“Let yourself relax, baby,” you encourage him softly, thumb brushing the ridge between scalp and horn. “I’ll help you. You need to.”  
  
He fights it for about three seconds – a new record for him – and then your heart starts melting as the sound is released. The smaller male makes a low rumbling noise in his throat as he nudges his horns against your palm, and you smile and oblige him. You ghost your fingers along the ridges, tracing a familiar pattern, fingernails scraping gently against the rounded tip and sliding back down. He’s a veritable engine now, purring like an old classic car, and it makes you feel like you’ve helped at least somewhat.  
  
Unable to contain yourself, you pause the horn massage and his purr drops off slowly. He blinks at you with big, quizzical eyes, and you smile as you lean forward and press your lips together. At the same time your fingers scrub his horns again and the sound explodes across your tongue, like you’ve licked a swarm of bees. You giggle and he blushes so you kiss him again, on the nose this time.  
  
“How about,” you murmur, kissing each cheekbone, “I make us some dinner,” you kiss his forehead, “and then we can watch Troll Will Smith in that Hitch knockoff?”  
  
“It’s not a knockoff!” He protests weakly, but his eyes are grateful. With a smile and a wink you tweak his horn between your fingers and kiss him quickly as you stand up.  
  
“Sure thing,” you retort sarcastically, smirking.  
  
“It’s _not_!” Some of the passion is returning to his argument, which is good. Grumpy Karkat is normal. Sad Karkat makes your heart shrivel in your chest. He slips his arms around you right before you step into the kitchen, and the surprise embrace catches you off guard. The purring has started up again, as it usually does, and the furious bubbling feeling makes your skin tingle. “John?”  
  
The softness in the way he says your name has unnoticed tension melting from your spine. “Yes?”  
  
“Can we have…mac and cheese?”  
  
You smile, turning to tangle one hand in his hair and kiss him fondly. “Sure thing, Karkat.”  
  
_Anything to keep you smiling,_ you think to yourself as you head off to make dinner.


	2. A Lot Like The Fountain (Free!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls in town celebrate a local holiday, and Makoto decides to participate.
> 
> Haru/Mako if you squint. Written as a friendship piece but left intentionally vague.

**Title:** A Lot Like The Fountain  
 **Fandom:** Free! (Iwatobi Swim Club)  
 **Pairing:** Makoto and Haruka  
 **Word Count:** 573  
 **Rating:** G  
 **Warnings:** None really…  
 **Prompt:** “A story about friendship set in a flower shop with a high school student as the main character and a fountain as a key object.”  
\--  
Makoto stands in the flower shop, feeling awkward as groups of giggling girls mill about, trying to decide on which flowers to get for their friends. It’s a strange tradition, but one the girls in town seems to stick to religiously. It’s always this same day, and they go buy flowers for their best friend and deliver them as a gift. Makoto is here with his sister, because as small as she is she wants to participate too and his parents were busy so he volunteered.  
  
He saw Gou come in earlier and leave with a bunch of pink carnations for her friend. She smiled and waved and reminded him to work on strengthening his stroke, and he laughed and promised he would and then returned to waiting for his sister to finish.  
  
The brunette turns his gaze to the side, and his eyes are immediately drawn to the fountain. It sits in the back corner of the shop, bubbling happily as streams of water rise up from the center and fall outward to collect back in the basin and start afresh. A smile tugs at his lips, because he immediately thinks of Haru. No doubt the raven-haired boy would be dipping his hands in it if he were here, though if Makoto didn't stop him he'd probably try to sit in it.  
  
Haruka has always loved water; Makoto has known it since the moment they met. They’ve been friends since they were children, and Makoto thinks to himself that Haru is a lot like the fountain. Rising up whenever he’s in the water, but always remaining collected. He’s steady and methodical, and above all beautiful and soothing. Makoto can’t think of anyone else he would prefer as his best friend.  
  
A thought occurs to him, that maybe….maybe he should get flowers for Haruka? They've never exchanged flowers for the holiday, never really thought about it, but he’s here anyway, and…. But what would Haru even like? There are so many choices, and Makoto feels overwhelmed as he looks around. Then his eyes land on what _have_ to be the perfect flowers. They just scream Haru.  
  
The saleslady is happy to inform him while she’s ringing up their purchases, the flowers his sister chose are pink Lilies, and the ones Makoto wants are Blue Gladiolus. He smiles. They’re blue and shaped almost exactly like the arcs of that fountain, like an overturned bell. Haru will love them.  
  
He pays the young woman and escorts his sister to her friend’s house, watching fondly as the other child squeals in delight and grabs his sister in a hug. They're so small and full of joy... he wonders if their friendship will last as long as his and Haru's. He hopes so.  
  
  
After a short time the older brother dutifully returns his sister safely home before heading out to Haruka’s, and when he arrives he stands on the doorstep anxiously for a moment before ringing the bell.  
  
After a moment of hesitation, the door is opened and Haruka stands before him, blinking in surprise.  
  
“These are for you,” Makoto blurts, smiling warmly, and Haru just watches his face for a moment without reaction. A sliver of doubt starts worming into the brunette’s heart. Was this a bad idea? Did he make the other boy uncomfortable?  
  
And then Haru smiles softly, reaching out to take the bundle of flowers, and when he leaves the door open as he walks away Makoto takes it as an invitation inside. Haruka is in the kitchen, searching for a vase. He finally digs one out of the bottom cupboard and fills it with water, settling the flowers inside.  
  
The silence remains unbroken as Makoto leans against the doorframe and Haru just stands at the counter, looking hard at the flowers. Then, "I didn't realize we celebrated this day."  
  
"Should I not have bought them?" The taller male pushes off the doorframe, frowning slightly.  
  
“No, no," His friend shakes his head, "Thank you, Makoto.”  
  
“Of course, Haru.”  
  
They just look at each other, Makoto grinning gently and Haru with his secret little smile he thinks Makoto can’t see. But he can. He’s had years of practice finding it, and quite often putting it there himself. "Do you like them?"  
  
Haruka lifts his gaze from the vase. "They look like water."  
  
And Makoto's heart swells, because that cryptic comment means more coming from Haru than most other things he could have said. "I'm glad."  
  
The other young man just nods, opening the cabinets and pulling out a frying pan. "Do you want to stay for dinner?"  
  
"Let me guess...." Makoto grins.  
  
"Mackerel," they say in unison, and Makoto laughs.  
  
"Never change, Haru."


	3. Almond (DC Comics)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark just can't wrap his head around it. How has Bruce _never_ eaten an almond?

**Title:** Almond  
 **Fandom:** DC Comics  
 **Pairing:** Clark/Bruce  
 **Word Count:** 629  
 **Rating:** T/M  
 **Warnings:** Men making out. Groping/grinding.  
 **Prompt:** Bruce and Clark, with the theme of Almonds.  
\--  
“Are you…you must be kidding.” Bruce stared blankly back at Clark, whose eyes widened. “You’re not kidding.”  
  
The other raised an eyebrow, shifting into a more comfortable position on the couch. “No, I’m not. Though I really don’t see why it’s such an issue…”  
  
Clark’s mouth dropped a little. “How could you have lived almost forty years with ever having just one?”  
  
“Easily?” Bruce countered sarcastically, only half kidding. Nothing in his life was ever easy, but this could not be as big a deal as his lover was making it out to be. “Seriously Clark, it's not a big deal.”  
  
“But, but….. Almonds are amazing! They’re crunchy and yummy and - ”  
  
“Clark.” Bruce cut across the other man, rolling his eyes. “If I eat one, will you shut up?”  
  
The man most people knew as just another reporter for the Daily Planet sighed. “It’s not the same if you’re just doing it out of obligation! You won’t really enjoy it!”  
  
Although Bruce knew there was so much more to the man before him than most others cared to learn, one thing that was universal was the man’s persistence. Whether he was in a suit at his place of work or flying around in a cape and tights, Clark was more stubborn than an ox. And as much as Bruce loved the man, when Clark had his heart set on something he could be insistent to the point of aggravation.  
  
It was the billionaire’s turn to sigh as he fixed his gaze on Clark. Setting his face into the most seductive expression he could muster when he was this annoyed, he arranged himself on the cushions so that his knees were tucked under him. “Come on, Clark, it's our night off,” he almost purred, rising slightly so he was leaning toward the other man. It was one of the very few nights where they were both free of responsibilities. Dick and Damian had volunteered to take patrol tonight, and things were quiet in Metropolis. “We’re supposed to be _relaxing_ , not debating over _almonds_.”  
  
“But – uh…I uh… what?” Clark stammered, face flushing slightly as Bruce began crawling closer.  
  
Bruce smirked. “Exactly. I want you to stop worrying, Clark,” he settled his knees on either side of the Man of Steel, effectively straddling his lap and trapping him against the couch. “And I want you to kiss me.”  
  
He leaned down, lips a mere centimeter from the other man’s, and waited. Clark, eyes wide and breath hitching, had to forcibly restrain himself from ravishing the other man. “Only...” he collected himself, eyes closing tightly as he strained to contain his desire. “Only if you let me make you an almond dessert later.”  
  
Bruce rolled his eyes. “Clark, if you can shut up about the _damn_ almonds long enough to pound me into these cushions,” he shifted to press their groins and chests together, wrapping his arms around Clark’s neck and dropping his voice to a husky whisper. “I’ll let you make almond desserts for a _week_.”  
  
Clark knew Bruce always made good on his promises, and with that out of the way he was now free to lift his own arms to slide his hands around his lover’s waist, lifting the other man and pressing him down on his back into the couch. His hands trailed to Bruce's sides and lower back, fingers slipping under the hem of his t-shirt and up along toned muscle and warm flesh.  
  
Bruce shivered at the sensation Clark’s slightly chilled fingers brought against his heated skin. It had been almost a week since they’d seen each other for any decent length of time, and longer still since they’d been intimate. Far too long, in his opinion. Unable to contain himself any longer, Bruce rocked his hips against Clark’s again and crushed their lips together in a molten-lava-meets-fireworks kiss. They groaned in unison, Clark gripping Bruce at his waist hard enough that he briefly worried about bruises. Then Bruce pressed closer still, tangling his fingers in the reporter’s hair and tugging gently to hear Clark groan in pleasure, and all concerns over hurting the Dark Knight vanished.  
  
Bruce smirked to himself as he let his mind wander to the rest of the evening. _If they get Clark this worked up, maybe Almonds aren’t so bad after all…_


	4. Cold Shock (Supernatural)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean decide showering together will be productive, somehow. Of course this is a good idea. Sure, Dean, whatever you say. ;)
> 
> This popped into my head for no reason, pretty much, so enjoy~!  
> (there may or may not be several more Supernatural drabbles coming today, also.....)

**Title:** Cold Shock  
 **Fandom:** Supernatural  
 **Pairing:** Destiel, Sabriel if you squint  
 **Word Count:** 627  
 **Rating:** T/M  
 **Warnings:** Nudity; Some Profanity  
 **Prompt:** Cas and Dean; shower scene  
\--

Dean groans, chewing on his lower lip as he watches Castiel strip. They’re filthy after their most recent encounter with some jackass demon, and somehow Dean had convinced his lover to shower with him. The brunette is doing this intentionally, Dean knows; looking so innocent and sweet with his big, bright eyes trained on Dean. Dean leans against the sink, waiting as the angel pulls his shirt away slowly and popping the button on his pants next. The hunter fixes him with a half-hearted “hurry-up” glare and Cas smiles warmly.  
  
“Patience Dean,” he murmurs in that wonderfully rough tone, and the elder Winchester groans again.  
  
“Fuck patience Cas,” he growls, grabbing the other by the wrist and dragging their bodies flush together. “I’ve been patient.”  
  
Cas archs a single brow. “This is patient?”  
  
Dean chooses not to respond, grinding against his boyfriend instead as he kisses the other man. Castiel grins against his lips, fingers trailing along the short hairs at the base of Dean’s skull. “Shower, Dean,” he murmurs after Dean pulls back to breathe.  
  
Dean nods in agreement, eyeing Cas hungrily as the smaller man bends down to turn on the faucet. As soon as the water is adjusted, Dean grips Castiel by the hips and drags him up and back, arms twining around his lover with his fingers splayed on his abdomen.  
  
“Dean,” Cas half-protests gently, but the hunter simply skims his fingers along Cas’s abs as his lips catch the juncture of his neck and shoulder, teeth nibbling lightly. Cas tilts his head back onto Dean’s shoulder, allowing better access as his boyfriend begins sucking and marking the skin. Castiel is his.  
  
“Dean, the water – ” he murmurs with a soft sigh, and said man relents, allowing them both to step into the shower together. Almost immediately Cas begins enthusiastically soaping his palms, and Dean smiles.  
  
“Cas, you’re fuckin' adorable.”  
  
The angel blinks, looking slightly up to meet his eyes. “What?” There are bubbles on his cheek.  
  
Dean chuckles, wiping the suds away and kissing his lover. Cas responds eagerly, soapy hands roaming Dean’s wet form as he leans heavily into the kiss. They continue in this manner for some time, stealing heated kisses in between washing each other, and Dean nips at Cas’s lips and Cas tangles his fingers in Dean’s hair, and things are getting steamier in the shower.  
  
Abruptly, things become significantly less arousing as a hard jet of icy water sprays across Dean’s back. Shrieking, he jumps backwards from where he has Cas pinned to the wall, one leg hitched up around Dean’s waist, and stumbles over the lip of the tub. The fearsome hunter ends up sprawled on the ground, tangled in a shower curtain while his angel boyfriend watches with amusement and shuts off the water.  
  
“Cas! We paid the heating bill this month!” Dean sputters indignantly.  
  
“Yeah, but Sam and I would like to shower too,” a familiar voice snarks, and Dean glances up to see Gabriel peering from the doorway.  
  
“Fuck you, Gabe!” Dean curses, drawing the curtain tighter around himself.  
  
“Tsk, tsk,” the angel grins. “You can’t have us both, and it seems you were busy already. Hello Cas,” he greets his kinsman pleasantly, and Cas nods, not bothering to cover himself in any way.  
  
“Hello, Gabriel.”  
  
“Cas, you’re naked!” Dean fumes, and Sam laughs. Castiel blinks.  
  
“Yes, and?”  
  
Sam sounds like he’s going to piss himself, Gabe is smirking like a douche, and Dean is turning a lovely shade of tomato.  
  
“Everybody out!” Dean growls, and Sam drags Gabriel down the hallway, both of them still snickering.  
  
Rather than getting laid, Dean has to spend the rest of the night explaining to Cas why public nudity is frowned upon.


	5. Creative Messes (Supernatural)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam just wants this one year to be different. No hunting; no running. Just some quality time and a quiet Halloween. And yet Halloween as Sam always wished it could have been turns out to be much the same as always.

**Title:** Creative Messes  
 **Fandom:** Supernatural  
 **Pairing:** Destiel and Sabriel, but mostly a gen fic  
 **Word Count:** 594  
 **Rating:** G/T  
 **Warnings:** Rated for swears, mostly. Pretty tame fic.  
 **Prompt:** The Halloween Sam always wanted  
\--

Dean frowns, throwing the fabric he held onto the table in a disgusted rage. “I can’t do it, Sammy.”  
  
“Dean,” his brother sighs. “It’s not that hard. Sewing is so basic, and I’m really surprised you don’t know how.”  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
His younger brother raises a brow at him. “Because it’s more convenient to stitch yourself up than to bleed to death?”  
  
Dean blinks. “It’s the same?”  
  
Sam stares blankly at him for a long minute, and then turns to Gabriel. “I’m going to kill him.”  
  
The angel examines his own project casually, offering Sam a soft smirk. “Kinda defeats the purpose of everyone saving his ass all the time, huh?”  
  
Sam groans. “I’m gonna go see what’s taking Castiel so long with the snacks.”  
  
He forces the fabric and needle back into Dean’s possession before leaving to check on the status in the kitchen. For some reason he had had this strange delusion that Castiel could be trusted with simply getting a few bags of chips, and the sight he meets in the kitchen surprises him.  
  
“Cas!” There are chips strewn around the counter and floor, what looks like dip splashed over the walls, and Castiel standing in the middle of it all, covered in grape soda and Dorito fragments, trying to mop up the mess with his tie. Sam takes a deep, calming breath, and yells, “DEAN!”  
  
“OW!” Dean’s voice yelps, soon followed by running steps, and his brother bursts into the room, index finger jammed between his lips. “Dammit Sammy, you made me stab myself!”  
  
Wordlessly, Sam gestures to the scene before them and raises both eyebrows as if to say, ‘what do you intend to do about this?’  
  
“Cas!” Dean echoes Sam’s initial reaction, crossing the room. “What the ever-loving fuck happened here?”  
  
Castiel blinks innocently. “Unlike grape juice, you should not shake grape soda before opening.”  
  
Sam groans, turning toward the wall and smacking his head against the wallpaper. All he wanted to do was spend one Halloween doing normal things, instead of hunting monsters. Decorate the house, give out candy to kids, make some costumes for the party the neighbors down the street were throwing this weekend. But of course, it turns into this.  
  
As if on cue, the doorbell bongs loudly, echoing through the house. Sam heaves a heavy sigh, pulls on his game face and leaves his brother to deal with the snack-coated angel in the kitchen. Someone needs to prevent Gabe from traumatizing five year olds.  
  
True to form, Gabe is donning a grisly hellhound mask he created himself. Sam sighs. “How old are they, Gabe?”  
  
“Twelve,” he responds automatically, and then looks pleadingly at Sam. “Can I?”  
  
He sighs, always a sucker for the pouty lip. “Okay.”  
  
Gabe bounces gleefully for a minute and pulls the door open, eliciting a scream from a duo of small princesses. Sam slaps himself in the forehead; he forgot to ask their gender. He’s grumbling to himself and massaging his temples when Gabe returns, cackling to himself, and the younger Winchester fixes his lover with a sharp glare. Gabriel grins, planting a kiss on Sam’s cheek before heading toward the kitchen to help with the mess. “I gave them double the candy to make up for it,” he calls nonchalantly over his shoulder, and Sam finds himself smiling fondly despite the aggravation.  
  
It’s turned into a fucking train wreck of an evening, and Sam is finding that he’s enjoying it more this way. They’re Winchesters, after all. If it went smoothly, it would be half the fun and half as rewarding.


	6. "Groceries" (Pokemon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Jessie should have learned by now not to leave James unsupervised.
> 
> Inspired by a post on the imagineteamrocket tumblr!  
> (http://imagineteamrocket.tumblr.com/post/98170920071/imagine-james-going-grocery-shopping-and-coming)

**Title:** "Groceries"  
 **Fandom:** Pokemon  
 **Pairing:** None, technically. Jessie/James (Rocketshipping) if you want.  
 **Word Count:** 395  
 **Rating:** Very G  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Prompt:** "Imagine James going grocery shopping and coming home to Jessie with bags full of scented candles."  
\--  
Jessie was flipping through a fashion magazine on the couch they had somehow squeezed into this tiny living room, mentally critiquing the models and remarking on how she would improve the outfits with her dazzling natural beauty, when she heard the sounds of someone struggling to open the front door. 

"That must be James with the groceries," she noted absently, not bothering to move from her seat. James was a big boy, he could handle a simple doorknob.  
Sure enough, the lavender-haired young man was soon bustling into the cramped space, beaming proudly as the bags draped over his arms clanked loudly. Jessie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

"James," she began, tone wary, "what’s in the -" 

"Look what I got, Jessie!" He set one bag aside and carried the other three forward. "Candles!" 

One after another, he produced a variety of scented candles from within the bags. Short, fat ones. Tall, thin ones. Candles scented with fruits, flowers, every manner of baked good Jessie had ever heard of and some that she hadn’t. There must have been at least thirty candles spread around the floor by the time he finished, if not more. 

Jessie’s eye was twitching as James continued to prattle on about the sale and how much of a bargain they were, and she tried very hard to maintain her composure. 

"James." 

He glanced up. “Yes, Jessie?” 

"Did you get _any_ groceries?!” 

"Oh, right!" He reached behind himself for the last bag, presenting it almost ceremoniously. "I got groceries, too!" 

She took the bag, feeling at least a little bit placated until she looked inside. Her hands shook, and she grit her teeth and crinkled the paper of the bag in her fists. 

" _James_ ," She ground the name out through her clenched jaw, "I sent you out two hours ago, with $40, and you bought a carton of orange juice, a jar of peanut butter, three packs of hotdogs, a pint of vanilla ice cream, and _three bags of candles_!?!?!” 

James recoiled briefly, frowning, and then got a determined look on his face. “But _Jessie_ ,” he dug around in the pile of candles, searching a bit frantically, and finally presented her with a small pink candle. “This one smells like strawberries!” 

James was never allowed to go shopping alone ever again, but at least they wouldn’t need candles for another three years or so. 


	7. "Forward" Advances (Supernatural)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabe gets drunk enough to forget that Sam is his boyfriend and that they came to this party together.
> 
> I feel like this one is sorta AU, but I'm not sure how much. Up to you I suppose, Reader! :)

**Title:** ’Forward’ Advances  
 **Fandom:** Supernatural  
 **Pairing:** Sabriel with background Destiel  
 **Word Count:** 461  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Warnings:** Lewd behavior; suggestive talk; vague mention of sex.  
 **Summary:** Gabe is completely smashed at a party. He starts coming on to Sam, having forgotten that Sam is, in fact, the person he came with. Sam just rolls with it.  
\--

“Hot _damn_ ,” Gabe purrs, blatantly checking Sam out as he gives the younger Winchester his best bedroom eyes. “You’re so goddamn hot.”  
  
Sam snorts in amusement, giving the fairly crowded room a once-over. Dean is still supervising Cas while his boyfriend samples every snack at the snack table, to prevent any incidents… Gabe is practically drooling at this point, and Sam indulges him. “Am I?”  
  
“Fuck yes,” Gabe insists, nodding emphatically to prove his point. He’s had at least five beers in the past three hours, and for a smaller man…well, needless to say Sam has cut him off for the night. “Did’ya come’ere with anyone?”  
  
 _Yeah, you,_ Sam thinks to himself, smirking. “Just my brother and his date,” he decides to play along. This will definitely be a source of amusement once Gabe sobers up, but for now he might as well enjoy himself. Dean seems to have things under control, as he’s currently trying to teach Castiel to dance.  
  
“Yessss,” Gabe does a happy little wiggle. “Can I kisshu then?”  
  
Sam chuckles. “Don’t you wanna’ know my name first?”  
  
Gabriel considers this. “Yeah, I do.”  
  
Still chuckling, Sam leans in and gives Gabe a lusty smile. “Good, ‘cause you’ll be screaming it tonight.” He presses his lips to the shell of his boyfriend’s ear. “It’s Sam.”  
  
The shorter man positively shudders. “Mine’s Gabriel.”  
  
“I know,” Sam murmurs, smiling, and Gabe almost seems to melt.  
  
The smaller man grabs him by the collar, dragging Sam down into a kiss. It’s a little uncoordinated and tastes like Sam Adams, but that doesn’t turn the younger Winchester away. He kisses his lover firmly but sweetly, one hand coming up to curl around Gabe’s hip while the other hand cups the back of his neck. They spend the rest of the party locked together on some couch, kissing and groping and cuddling, until Dean decides they should probably leave before Cas ends up breaking something with his dance moves – which, honestly, seem more like someone having a seizure upright. Sam’s not going to argue and Gabe can’t really – he’s only half-conscious, curled in Sam’s lap and mouthing absently at his neck.  
  
The younger Winchester ends up having to carry his boyfriend to the car while Dean convinces Cas not to take the plate of mini-sandwiches home with them, and Gabe falls asleep in the Impala’s back seat within minutes. Despite his earlier promises, Sam just settles him in bed and crawls in after him once they’re home. Pulling his lover to his chest, he wraps Gabriel in his arms and kisses his brow before following him into sleep.  
  
It’s not a total loss, however; Gabe certainly makes it up to him the following night, after Sam spends the day teasing him about the party.


	8. The Games We Play (Avengers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes what seems like a good idea runs its course quickly. Bucky and Nat are learning this the hard way.  
> (High School!AU)
> 
> Written for my friend becausebuckysbutt on tumblr!  
> This ended up being way longer than I expected, but I'm not sure I'm totally happy with it...? I hope you enjoy anyway!

**Title:** The Games We Play  
 **Fandom:** Marvel - Avengers  
 **Pairing:** Stucky, Clintasha, and a little bit of Bucky/Nat  
 **Word Count:** 1,553  
 **Rating:** G/T  
 **Warnings:** Strong language, maybe?  
 **Prompt:** Stucky (Steve/Bucky) or Clintasha (Clint/Natasha); fake relationship AU  
\--  
Natasha laughs, loud and forced but meant to sound natural, as she loops her arms around Bucky’s neck. He grins roguishly, eyes glinting mischievously as he looks down at her, and her eyelids droop so she’s smiling up at him while looking through her thick lashes. He backs her up against the lockers, leaning in as if to kiss her, but instead he puts his lips beside her ear. 

"Are they looking?" He murmurs, and she sneaks a glance out of the corner of her eye, to see Steve and Clint staring at them from the end of the hall with mixed expressions. Clint looks mad enough to stab someone, which makes Natasha grin slightly in accomplishment, but Steve looks more like someone just slapped him with a dead puppy, and that makes her heart thrum with guilt.  
She and Bucky have been playing this game for over two months now. At first, neither Clint or Steve paid the new couple any mind, almost seeming not to notice they had paired off. Then the school’s gossip pulse picked up on things, and the two blonde boys seemed supportive, if maybe a bit surprised. Clint was quicker to brood, over time, prone to falling into bouts of sullenness in their presence until he finally stopped spending time with both of them together and only seeing one of them at a time. 

Steve was charming and sweet all the while, trying to be the good and accommodating friend he was known to be, until one day Tony Stark joking called Natasha and Bucky “The School’s Most Dangerous Power Couple” - with Tony and Pepper being the “Most Glamorous”, of course. After that day, Steve’s enthusiasm seemed to wane slowly until he eventually joined Clint in the ranks of friends who would only hang out with the couple separately.

"Yeah." Now back in the present, Natasha sighs, frowning a bit. "James….Are we doing the right thing here? I know you wanted to make them jealous, but I think we’re hurting them a bit too much."

Bucky groans softly, letting his forehead thump lightly against the cool metal of the locker. The way she drags out his name like that always makes him wary, and he realizes that she always has a point when using that tone. “Yeah, me too.”

"Maybe it’s time for a change of strategy…" Natasha muses, and Bucky pulls back a bit to gaze at her suspiciously. 

"That’s a dangerous expression," he teases halfheartedly, and she meets his gaze evenly.

"Yes it is, darling." Her red-painted lips quirk into a mischievous grin. "Yes, it is."

\----

The next day, the school is treated to quite the spectacle before homeroom. One of the school’s most admired couples seems to be blowing up, and not in a good way.

"You’re an arrogant pig, Bucky Barnes!" Natasha nearly hisses, her voice escalating as she storms away from Bucky’s reaching fingers the moment they enter the main hall of the school.

"Natasha, baby, calm down," Bucky retorts, trying in vain to soothe her. He catches a quick glimpse of Steve pushing to the edge of the crowd to see what’s going on, before Natasha’s bright blue eyes appear in his line of vision, smoldering angrily. _Man, she gets into character,_ a chill runs down his spine, and Bucky reaches for her waist again, only to have his hands slapped away.

"I will not calm down,” she snaps, “and I am no one’s ‘baby’, James!” She tosses her long hair over her shoulder, fixing him with a glare. “You’re a possessive, demanding jerk, and I’d rather not waste my time _babysitting_ you!”

The words roll off his back easily, but Bucky pretends to become angry now. “Oh really? _I’m_ demanding?” He emits a short bark of laughter. “Nat, you’re the most high-maintenance, pushy, bossy _bitch_ that I’ve ever had the misfortune to date!”

He hears the gasp of the crowd and the sharp cracking noise before he feels the sting, and only then does he register that she’s slapped him. There’s fire in her eyes and the crowd has moved back a step in shock, as if expecting him to retaliate. Bucky can see Clint trying to come forward, as if to lunge at him, but Tony and Thor Odinson - their burly foreign friend - are restraining the smaller man. As if Bucky would ever hit a woman. He takes a moment to feel insulted by their assumptions, and then Natasha is prompting him back into character with her next statement.

"If I’m such a _horrible_ , needy girlfriend, James, you can have fun trying to find someone better!” She tosses her hair again and straightens the hem of her shirt. The red mark undoubtedly plastered on his cheek is smarting pretty bad, and yet she seems unfazed.

He glares at her. “Yeah, maybe I will! Have fun finding a man who will put up with _your_ uptight ass, _Warden_ Romanoff!”

They storm away from each other, shoving through the crowd impatiently, and after a moment or two of lingering silence, the crowd of students gathered bursts into a flurry of stunned reactions.

"I _so_ saw this coming!”  
"No way, you did not!"

"Wow, harsh much?"  
"Pfft, he got off easy!"  
"Yeah man, Romanoff is scary!"

"What a jerk!"  
"What? No way, she’s the bitch here."

"What the fuck just happened?" This is Tony, arching a brow at their small group of friends gathered together.

"What just happened," Clint is grinning, "is that Nat finally dropped that blockhead jock, and now I can make my move."

Pepper blinks at him like she’s not sure if he’s sane. “You’re going to try and ask her out right after that blowup? While she’s still furious?”

The young man pales. “Um….I might wait a day, actually. Probably.”

His friends laugh appreciatively, but Steve seems a bit distant.

"You okay, buddy?" Tony clasps his shoulder, looking at him with concern. 

"Huh?" The blonde blinks in surprise, blue eyes refocusing on Tony’s face. "Yeah, I just…that’s not like Bucky…"

"What?"

"He doesn’t get worked up like that…." Steve frowns. "Not ever."

Pepper frowns as well. “You have a point, Steve. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bucky yell, let alone lose his cool that way. Maybe you should go check on him?”

Steve seems to consider this, but then the bell rings for class. “At lunch,” he decides, still frowning softly. “I’ll talk to him at lunch…”

\----

"Bucky?"

The cafeteria is loud, but the brunette would know that soft, concerned voice anywhere. This is Steve’s mother hen voice, and no doubt his best friend is here to ‘comfort’ him after that dramatic show this morning. It’s about time, Bucky smirks internally. He had half expected Steve to come running after him this morning.

"Yeah, Stevie?" He turns, expecting to see his friend’s worried expression, and is momentarily taken aback at the fire in Steve’s gaze, the firm set of his frown. "Whoa…Steve?"

"You’re an asshole, Bucky."

There’s a tense moment, while Bucky blinks in confusion and Steve looks ready to punch him, before he decides to risk it.

"What, uh….what did I do?"

Steve’s eyes narrow, and Bucky cringes internally.

"Whichever poor girl you were trying to make jealous by dating Natasha, I hope she turns you down every time you try to ask her out." Steve is fuming, and Bucky is starting to understand. "I realized something was off when you went from happily dating Nat to breaking up in one day, and then when you blew up at her this morning I knew you were putting on a show.

"And the only explanation that made sense for all of it was that you were only dating Natasha to make some other girl jealous." He pauses for air, but shows no sign of slowing his tirade while Bucky sits, stunned. "That’s horrible, Bucky! How could you use Natasha that way? How could you be such a coward and do this instead of just manning up and asking out the right dame?"

Bucky makes what might turn out to be a very poor life choice. He stands up and faces Steve like the man he’s been challenged to be, and smiles a soft, lazy grin. “Because I thought you’d turn me down, Stevie.”

It’s the blonde teen’s turn to look stunned now, but that look of surprise is nothing compared to the way his eyes blow wide as Bucky tugs him closer by the shirt collar and kisses him soundly, right in the middle of the cafeteria. 

\----

The next few days are a flurry of gossip through the school, as people try to adjust to two of the school’s most desired boys getting together. The rumor mill shows no sign of slowing down when Natasha and Clint come to school the next day holding hands, with Clint grinning broadly despite sporting a deep black eye to match Natasha’s bruised knuckles.

Things start to settle down a bit after that, though, at least until Tony Stark steals the show - as usual - at graduation a few months later, where he proposes to the class valedictorian on stage. (Pepper says yes, of course, on the condition that he actually starts to take responsibility for his father’s company).


	9. I Don't Have a Car (Avengers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **bucky:** hey sam, can I get a ride home?  
>  **sam, getting into his car:** I don’t have a car. 
> 
> Saw the post, couldn't resist. This was the product of a nine hour train ride, or at least the portion before I took a nap. Enjoy?

**Title:** I Don't Have a Car  
**Fandom:** Marvel - Avengers  
**Pairing:** Stucky or Freebird (or both??) if you squint, but mostly gen  
**Word Count:** 1,663  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings:** Sam being a jerkface brat. Also Steve is a negligent friend for the majority of the fic *shrug*  
**Prompt:** [this post](http://hopevandyne.tumblr.com/post/144481748500/bucky-hey-sam-can-i-get-a-ride-home-sam) on tumblr, which is also the Chapter Summary weeeee~  
\--  


Sam Wilson is not mad. He is not mad, or irritated, or pissed off or even annoyed, and most of all he is not _jealous_.  


It had seemed like a great thing at the time, and he recognizes now that it was because it was a possibility then and not a certainty. He acknowledges that he was more fond of James Barnes in theory than in practice.  


_"My friend from back home might be coming to stay with us this summer,"_ Steve had said. _"You remember me talking about Bucky, right?"_  


Did he remember? Of _course_ he did - how could he not when the guy was the closest thing Steve had to a brother? When he was all Steve could talk about after returning from a trip to Brooklyn over the winter break? When during the four years of their friendship, Sam was positive he had heard every story; every variation of, "and Bucky this" "and Buck and I" and "then Bucky said" that there was to hear.  


Sam wondered if Steve talked this much about him when he was with Bucky. He wondered why Steve still referred to Brooklyn as "home" when he hadn't lived there since before high school. Why he was still friends with Bucky after the other boy moved to Romania for two years and "lost contact" with Steve - and Sam was still convinced it had not been an accident.  


But he bit his tongue for his best friend, and smiled and nodded and said it sounded awesome and they would have a great time this summer, the three of them.

  


Except it wasn't the three of them - not often. And even when it _was_ , it really wasn't. More often than not, plans would change in the middle and Sam would find himself alone when he realized that Steve and Bucky had disappeared on him again. In moments like this he would text Natasha, and the mysterious young woman had a habit of showing up within the hour, Starbucks in hand and Clint Barton in tow.  


It is one such time as this that Sam finds himself lounging by the fountain in the center of the mall, halfheartedly sipping his grande americano as he scans the escalators for matching blue and black baseball caps.  


"Stop sulking," Natasha commands, black-manicured nails digging into the skin of Clint's wrist as he tries to sneak pieces of her danish. She fixes her intense gaze on Sam, and he finds himself straightening up automatically. "Why don't you just tell Steve you're upset?"  


"Because I'm not," Sam insists, not for the first time this week, or even today. "I'm just....maybe a little frustrated."  


"Ah yes," A slender red brow quirks up and brings the corner of painted lips with it. "Because those are very different emotions."  


"They totally are," Clint chimes in as he bravely reaches for another piece of danish and receives a swat on the knuckles for his trouble. Sam isn't super close with Clint - they're both jocks, though Sam plays football and Clint is in the Rod & Gun club - but he appreciates his support.  


"Yep."  


Natasha sighs. "This is a man thing. A stupid, pointless macho act." Her caramel coffee is drained in a final sip, and she unfolds herself from the table. "Well, I have things to do. Have fun _pining_ ," she smirks, flicking his temple as she moves past him to toss her trash. Clint snags the danish from the plate indignantly.  


"If you weren't going to eat it, why did you keep hurting me?"  


_Because I can_ , Natasha signs at him with a grin, and Sam is abruptly reminded that as well as his hearing aid functions, Clint Barton is actually deaf. You'd never know it outside of moments like this, and Sam can't help but feel admiration for the short, shouty archer with the smart mouth.  


"Well fuck you then," Clint retorts, but quickly abandons the issue to stuff his mouth with raspberries and cream.  


Sam lifts a hand in farewell as they head out into the mall, off to who knows where. As soon as they're out of sight he feels restless, scrubbing a hand over his face and collecting his own trash as he prepares to leave. Maybe he'll wander the mall, maybe he'll just go home; either way there's no point in sitting and moping.  


One last fruitless scan of the food court and then he's gone. Who cares about Steve Rogers anyway? Steve can take care of himself just fine.

  


Fate is having a laugh at his expense, Sam decides, when he enters the parking garage to find a dark-haired, black-hatted figure standing awkwardly at the trunk of his Challenger. With a heavy inward groan, he debates whether to speak first or just pretend he doesn't see Barnes waiting so patiently - as awkward as that would be later.  


"Hey Sam," the aforementioned nuisance makes the choice for him, though he at least has the decency to sound as uncomfortable as Sam feels. He grunts a response, and Bucky presses on, "I uh... Well Steve ran into a friend and..."  


He trails off, clearly feeling awkward about whatever he's trying to say, but Sam refuses to take pity on him and lets him struggle as he makes his way to the driver's side of the shiny silver car. He holds the door open and makes a point of glancing at his watch, and Steve's old friend chews his lip self-consciously. A vindictive part of Sam is glad that Bucky has gotten left behind this time, so maybe he'll see how it feels.  


"Well she was very pretty, and there's really only room on his bike for two people, so I'm..." Bucky sighs, a resigned look settling onto his ridiculously chiseled face. "Can I have a ride back to Steve's?"  


Sam just stares at him for a moment, expression neutral but internally incredulous. They ditch him not once or twice but _three_ times in one week, every time with no more apology than a quick text from Steve hours later, and now Barnes has the balls to ask him for a favor. It'd be funny if it wasn't so insulting.  


"Sorry," Sam responds without thinking, acting purely on petty instinct as he slides into the car and rolls down the window to offer Bucky a smug smirk. "But I don't have a car."  


He backs carefully out of the slot and drives out of the garage without a single regret or a backwards glance, almost cackling at the stunned disbelief on Bucky Barnes' face.

  


He has to deal with Steve later, _of course_ , because anyone who even looks sideways at Bucky has to deal with Steve eventually, and vice versa. But even the following morning, when Steve knocks very politely on his front door and then proceeds to chew him out in his own kitchen, Sam can't find it in himself to feel bad.  


"You finished?" He asks patiently when Steve stops yelling, arching a brow to accentuate the question. "Want some orange juice? Milk? I could make eggs if you're hungry?"  


"Are you joking?" Steve snaps, glowering, but Sam has long since stopped being fazed by this.  


"Of course not," He responds calmly, pulling two glasses from the hardwood cabinet before turning to the fridge. "It's good manners to offer your guest food and drink."  


"Good _manners?_ " Steve loses his cool a bit, slamming an open palm onto the Formica kitchen island so hard that it echoes a bit. "You didn't seem to have many of those _yesterday_ , from what it sounds like!"  


And now Sam can't keep his cool either, abandoning the jug of orange juice on the counter without filling the cups. "And what about _you?_ " His temper is bubbling up, but he stops short of shouting. "Where were _your_ boyscout manners any of the times this summer that you took off with Bucky and left me wherever was convenient?  


"I've spent more time with Nat and Clint this summer than you, but I guess you didn't notice because your _real_ best friend is here, huh?" He scowls, refusing to look away from piercing blue eyes that are slowly dawning with realization. "You don't need me when you have Bucky, right? I'm good enough when he's not around, but nobody ever compares to him."  


Steve visibly deflates, sinking into the dining chair and for a moment looking like the scrawny middle schooler he had been when they first met. "Geez, Sam, why didn't you say anything? I didn't mean to..."  


Sam sighs heavily, plopping into his own chair with a shrug. "I didn't want to sound petty I guess. I know you miss him a lot, so I was trying to stay out of the way." His lips twist into an odd grimace. "I just felt like shit whenever you two would disappear on me."  


Steve looks pained, offering an apologetic smile. "I've been a shit friend," he admits, resting his elbow on the table and pushing a hand into his bangs. He's due for a haircut soon, Sam notes. "I was so excited to see Buck again, I didn't even notice how often we were leaving you out."  


"Well," Sam shrugs with one shoulder, "that's understandable. You're pretty much a space cadet all the time as it is."  


"Rude," the blonde frowns, but there's no heat to it anymore. After a moment he clears his throat slightly. "Y'know, I'd take that juice now if the offer still stands?"  


Sam grins in response, reaching to pour them both a drink. "I guess I could manage that."  


"The eggs, too?"  


"Don't push your luck, Rogers."  


They're both chuckling at that, the remaining tension dissipating and leaving an atmosphere so much lighter, they both end up doubled over with laughter as the situation sinks in fully.  


It's a while before they fully calm down, laughter fading away into soft giggles and then slowly regulating breaths, but Steve ruins it when he makes eye contact with Sam and asks, incredulously, "Did you really say you didn't have a car _as you were driving away in it?_ "


End file.
